Johnny 5 Quotes

Yeah, I know you. I made you up. This is my dream. You're a mixture of Zac Efron and Johnny Depp.

You lose what individualism you have, if you have enough of course, you retain some of it, but most don't have enough, so they become watchers of game shows, y’know, things like that. Then you work the 8 hour job with almost a feeling of goodness, like you’re doing something, and you get married, like marriage is a victory and you have children like having children is a victory, but most things people do are a total grind, marriage, birth, children, it’s something they HAVE to do because they have nothing else to do. There is no glory in it, no esteem, no fire, their lives are flat and the earth is full of them. Sorry, but thats the way I see it. I could not accept the snail’s pace 8-5, Johnnie Carson, merry christmas, happy new year, to me it’s the sickest of all sick things.

all I can think of is Jack Nicholson in The Shining, grinning at us and announcing, here's Johnny. Well here's Sloane, motherfucker.

Damn," Crystal sputtered, looking up from the dictionary in disbelief. "Oenophlygia: the state of being dunk. It really is a word". Johnny gloated unabashedly. "Just wouldn't listen, would you? Just couldn't stand that I might be way ahead of the game. Word to the wise," he added with a superior smirk. "Don't mess with a man of my experience in that arena.

How do we know that’s really John?’ she asks. ‘Setrákus Ra can change forms. This might be some kind of trap.’ In my excitement to hear John and Sam, I hadn’t even considered the possibility that this could be a ploy. Behind me, Nine shouts towards the communicator. ‘Hey, Johnny, remember back in Chicago? When you were claiming to be Pittacus Lore and we had a debate about whether to go to New Mexico?’ ‘Yeah,’ John’s voice sounds like it’s coming through clenched teeth. ‘How’d we settle that?’ John sighs. ‘You dangled me off the edge of the roof.’ Nine grins like that’s the best thing ever. ‘It’s definitely him.

I needed to wander… whenever and wherever I wanted! I’d found myself at the end of my rope as far as school was concerned; there seemed no particular reason for me to stay. The teachers didn’t want to teach, and I didn’t want to learn—from them. I wanted my education to come from living life, getting out there in the world, seeing and doing and moving amongst the other vagabonds who had had the same sneaking suspicion that I did, that there would be no great need for high-end mathematics, nope… I was not going to be doing other people’s taxes and going home at 5:37 p.m. to pat my dog’s head and sit down to my one meat and two vegetable table waiting for Jeopardy to pop on the glass tit, the Pat Sajak of my own private game show, in the bellybutton of the universe, Miramar, Florida.

So did I mishear over the communicator, or did you send your girlfriend off on a super-sexy secret mission with her ex-boyfriend?’ ‘We’re fighting a war here, Nine, it’s not a joke,’ John replies sternly. After a moment’s awkward pause, a begrudging smile breaks on his face. ‘Also, shut up. It’s not super sexy. What does that even mean?’ ‘Wow, you really need my guidance,’ Nine says. He throws his arm around John’s shoulders and leads him towards the house. ‘Come on. I’ll explain what sexy is.’ ‘I know what it – ugh, why am I even discussing this with you?’ John shoves Nine in frustration, but Nine just holds on tighter. ‘Get off me, idiot.’ ‘Come on, Johnny, you need my affection now more than ever.

Jeez!You’re making me want to take you on the grass again.

Thought Experiment: Imagine that you are Johnny Carson and find yourself caught in an intolerable one-on-one conversation at a cocktail party from which there is no escape. Which of the two following events would you prefer to take place: (1) That the other person become more and more witty and charming, the music more beautiful, the scene transformed to a villa at Capri on the loveliest night of the year, while you find yourself more and more at a loss; or (2) that you are still in Beverly Hills and the chandeliers begin to rattle, a 7.5 Richter earthquake takes place, and presently you find yourself and the other person alive and well, and talking under a mound of rubble. If your choice is (2), explain why it is possible for a true conversation to take place under the conditions of (2) but not (1).

He didn't just want pretty or hot. He wanted beautiful.

You go out into your world, and try and find the things that will be useful to you. Your weapons. Your tools. Your charms. You find a record, or a poem, or a picture of a girl that you pin to the wall and go, "Her. I'll try and be her. I'll try and be her - but here." You observe the way others walk, and talk, and you steal little bits of them - you collage yourself out of whatever you can get your hands on. You are like the robot Johnny 5 in Short Circuit, crying, "More input! More input for Johnny 5! as you rifle through books and watch films and sit in front of the television, trying to guess which of these things that you are watching - Alexis Carrington Colby walking down a marble staircase; Anne of Green Gables holding her shoddy suitcase; Cathy wailing on the moors; Courtney Love wailing in her petticoat; Dorothy Parker gunning people down; Grace Jones singing "Slave to the Rhythm" - you will need when you get out there. What will be useful. What will be, eventually, you? And you will be quite on your own when you do all this. There is no academy where you can learn to be yourself; there is no line manager slowly urging you toward the correct answer. You are midwife to yourself, and will give birth to yourself, over and over, in dark rooms, alone. And some versions of you will end in dismal failure - many prototypes won't even get out the front door, as you suddenly realize that no, you can't style-out an all-in-one gold bodysuit and a massive attitude problem in Wolverhampton. Others will achieve temporary success - hitting new land-speed records, and amazing all around you, and then suddenly, unexpectedly exploding, like the Bluebird on Coniston Water. But one day you'll find a version of you that will get you kissed, or befriended, or inspired, and you will make your notes accordingly, staying up all night to hone and improvise upon a tiny snatch of melody that worked. Until - slowly, slowly - you make a viable version of you, one you can hum every day. You'll find the tiny, right piece of grit you can pearl around, until nature kicks in, and your shell will just quietly fill with magic, even while you're busy doing other things. What your nature began, nature will take over, and start completing, until you stop having to think about who you'll be entirely - as you're too busy doing, now. And ten years will pass without you even noticing. And later, over a glass of wine - because you drink wine now, because you are grown - you will marvel over what you did. Marvel that, at the time, you kept so many secrets. Tried to keep the secret of yourself. Tried to metamorphose in the dark. The loud, drunken, fucking, eyeliner-smeared, laughing, cutting, panicking, unbearably present secret of yourself. When really you were about as secret as the moon. And as luminous, under all those clothes.

Birth control was frowned upon by the people in Envy and elsewhere. After so much of the human race had been destroyed, it was thought that attention should be given to repopulating the earth. Well, that was fine, Fence thought, but he wasn't just going to play Johnny fucking Appleseed planting babies with his junk.

Come on. I’ll explain what sexy is.’ ‘I know what it – ugh, why am I even discussing this with you?’ John shoves Nine in frustration, but Nine just holds on tighter. ‘Get off me, idiot.’ ‘Come on, Johnny, you need my affection now more than ever.

He grinned. “You realise I’m reporting for duty on the second of January?” “Good. Then the last memory you’ll have of me is wearing a party frock and knocking back cocktails while I kick old 1914 right in the teeth. Let’s send it off in style. (Delilah and Johnny)

Chase was gone then, and Donnie was back, alone in his room, wondering about those pictures from an art book he'd so admired. Because it felt like he'd just lived one, and it had been beautiful, so beautiful, and he'd been able to reach out and touch the lines of it, but it still hurt.

Tom McFly’s wedding speech”.

He slid his arms around her. “Is that how you fixed us together? Magic potions in my evening whisky?” She put her hands into his hair, twisting her fingers and tugging ever so slightly. “I didn’t have to fix us. We came that way.” (Johnny and Delilah)

Myself, I dislike frontiers, and yet the sense that my own has vanished produces in me the strongest emotion I have felt in connection with Texas, or with any place. It has embedded itself in the titles of each of my books and just as I think I have worn the emotions out it seizes me again, usually at some unlikely moment. I see my son, age 5, riding a mechanical horse in front of the laundromat on Sunday morning, and the sight calls up my uncle Johnny, when he was age 5, sitting on top of the McMurtry barn watching the last trail her go by. It is indeed a complex distance from those trail drivers who made my father and my uncles determined to be cowboys to the mechanical horse that helps convince my son that he is a cowboy, as he takes a vertical ride in front of a laundromat.

Dear Mr Keon, Who was your best friend when you were in grade 5? I bet he played hockey with you and did not steal and kill people like Rollie. After he disappeared and mother and me got grilled by the police we had to talk to someone from child warfare about our family.

I’d go for you, Donnie,” he said as he pulled back from that suddenly breathless moment. “But see, I’m not as brave as you, so I’m not gay.

You involved me in a kinky threesome before coffee,” he said, hating everybody. “I regret nothing.

People shouldn’t be given up,” she said, her voice sinking. “Not if they make you happy.” He smiled a little.

Nobody to hold hands with. Nobody to whisper secrets in the dark. Nobody to look at him like he was special, and Bobby and only Bobby could make him happy.

love you,” he said, blowing Reg’s mind. “I don’t know if any other boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever, has said that, but that’s how I feel.

Bobby cried out, groaned, and fell forward, coming that quickly, too quickly, because the white light would fade, would drain from them like come, and they would be left, just their heartbeats, alone in the darkness of an uncertain world.

Galen’s smile was unexpectedly pretty. “You, sir, are a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have helped in your defense.” He gave an almost courtly bow then, and Bobby remembered why Galen hadn’t been there for the arraignment.

But he did have a moment, about half an hour later, to see Galen and John’s first kiss, after John got back from the zoo.

For a moment in time, Bobby didn’t exist. Nothing existed but these two souls, reconnecting, learning the feel and taste of each other all over again. Bobby watched them, entranced, and swallowed. He wanted that. He could have that. He could have that with Reg.

Yes, sir.” “Doing this?” The guy used his hat to gesture to the framed porch. “No, sir. Fucking for money.

I’m just saying—your work ethic, your ability, we could pay you union wages and health and dental, plus workman’s comp.” He grinned then, showing even teeth. “You get unemployment in porn?” Bobby chuckled. “You do. Never know when you’re gonna break your wiener, right?

The Fox News channel?” he asked under his breath as he and Lance cleaned off the table enough to set the pizza on. “Like… the Fox News channel?

His heart felt like an aging cardboard box in the rain. Only the memory of what he was supposed to be held him up.

It hit you, is all,” he said. “What you’ve given up your

whole life. What you had for a couple of months. What you’re giving up again.

He’s awesome,” Alejandro confessed, looking at her. “Your little brother is beautiful and amazing and perfect and way too young and innocent for the things I want to do to him.” Alejandro put his face back into

And Alejandro, who never swallowed—hell, who never even gave head without a condom—had licked at his bared, tender skin like candy and swallowed down bitter seed like it was orange soda, because it had been Donnie, and it had tasted good, and because the noises saturating Alejandro’s skin like color had been so hot.

Good. Because I trust you. Besides. You know my family. They’ll fucking kill you.

himself

ASHA’S FRIED CHICKEN Ingredients*: 1 plump whole chicken seasoning salt (Johnny’s Seasoning Salt is my favorite) garlic powder onion powder coarse-ground pepper hot sauce all-purpose flour vegetable oil Directions: Step 1: Place your whole chicken on a cutting board for butchering. Remove the backbone (discard or save for stock) and separate the thighs, wings, and legs, and split the breast. Cut the breast in half again to create four equal-size pieces that will cook more closely in time with the rest of the chicken. You should now have ten similarly sized portions. Rinse the pieces, transfer to a clean surface, and pat dry. Step 2: Lay the chicken out and sprinkle lightly on both sides with the Johnny’s seasoning salt, garlic powder, onion powder, and pepper. Place the meat into a shallow bowl and dash all over with hot sauce. Use a small amount for a light zing or add more for a spicier result. Toss until evenly coated and place the chicken in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. This is a good time to disinfect your cooking surfaces and prep your side dishes. Step 3: Remove the chicken from the refrigerator. Add flour to a double paper bag and shake two pieces at a time until well coated. Set aside the chicken on a clean surface. Step 4: Heat an inch of vegetable oil in a pan with high sides to 350°F (175°C) or until a pinch of flour sizzles when tossed on the surface. Give each piece another dip into the flour before gently laying them into the pan. Avoid overcrowding, as this will lower the heat of the oil and create soggy chicken. Fry on both sides until brown or for about 15 minutes. Step 5: Remove and allow to drain on paper towels. Internal temperature should be at least 165°F (75°C) with no pink flesh remaining near the bone. Serve right away for a hot and crispy bird.

you’ll

The seventy-one-year-old Churchill is a creature of habit, rising each morning at 7:30 in his official residence at 10 Downing Street, just a half mile up the road from the Houses of Parliament. He works in bed until 11:00, whereupon he bathes, pours a weak Johnnie Walker Red scotch and water, and then works some more.3 He sips Pol Roger champagne with lunch at 1:00 p.m. Whenever possible, this is followed by a game of backgammon with Clementine at 3:30. He takes a ninety-minute nap at 5:00 p.m. Arising, Churchill bathes a second time, works for an hour, eats a sumptuous dinner at 8:00 p.m., and smokes a post-dinner cigar with a vintage Hine brandy. After that, he goes back to his study for more work until well past midnight.

Churchill is a creature of habit, rising each morning at 7:30 in his official residence at 10 Downing Street, just a half mile up the road from the Houses of Parliament. He works in bed until 11:00, whereupon he bathes, pours a weak Johnnie Walker Red scotch and water, and then works some more.3 He sips Pol Roger champagne with lunch at 1:00 p.m. Whenever possible, this is followed by a game of backgammon with Clementine at 3:30. He takes a ninety-minute nap at 5:00 p.m. Arising, Churchill bathes a second time, works for an hour, eats a sumptuous dinner at 8:00 p.m., and smokes a post-dinner cigar with a vintage Hine brandy. After that, he goes back to his study for more work until well past midnight. Unless

In 1908 Johnny Hayes won the Olympic marathon in what a spectator at the time described as “the greatest race of the century.” Hayes’s winning time, which set a world record for the marathon, was 2 hours, 55 minutes, and 18 seconds. Today, barely more than a century later, the world record for a marathon is 2 hours, 2 minutes, and 57 seconds—nearly 30 percent faster than Hayes’s record time—and if you’re an eighteen- to thirty-four-year-old male, you aren’t even allowed to enter the Boston Marathon unless you’ve run another marathon in less than 3 hours, 5 minutes. In short, Hayes’s world-record time in 1908 would qualify him for today’s Boston Marathon (which has about thirty thousand runners) but with not a lot to spare. That same 1908 Summer Olympics saw a near disaster

Keeping the family nourished on half of what we had to spend four years ago takes more than womanly instinct and maternal advice. It takes knowing whether you get more protein for your money in eggs or meat, whether there’s enough calcium for Johnny’s bones and teeth in spinach or do you have to buy the more expensive vegetables. It takes knowledge of the chemistry of cooking: the effects of heat on vitamins, and how to cook cheap cuts of meat so that they are nourishing and palatable.5

delving into a debate

When they reached South Africa, the air became cooler and the dead people became whiter.